Page 50 of Go Cook Yourself

A crash of the chair against the table brings me back down to earth, and we quickly pull apart. My body still tingles, and there’s a ball of need inside me telling me to kiss him again, but it’s the person standing beside me that demands my attention.

“Jem, what are you doing here?”

“I saw the work van outside, and I wondered how the end of the rescue went,” he explains as he rearranges the furniture. His sullen attitude surprises me. “But I guess you two are busy. I’m heading off.”

“We were just—”

“Don’t lie. You’ve caused enough problems over the years.” I gasp at Jem’s cutting comment. “All it took was one night back with Mum and Dad, and you’re willing to make things difficult for them again. I was the one left at home when you hurt them before. Screwing the chef at their cookery school isn’t wise, so don’t, yeah?”

His words turn my joy cold. “We’re not screwing.”

He rolls his eyes, but his jaw is tight, his shoulders hunch, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sure. That’s totally believable.”

“Hold on,” Garett says, but I rest a hand on his arm to stop him.

I was gone a long time and missed my baby brother growing into whatever this is. My behaviour was a mistake, but I didn’t realise it ruined Jem’s teenage years.

Before I can say anything, Jem walks out of the pub, leaving Garett and me with goldfish mouths, staring after him.

“I’ve got to go, Garett. I need to sort this out.” I rush out the door as gravel flies from Jem’s squealing wheels as he tears out of the car park.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ruby

I bang on the door of one of Jem’s old school friends. It’s taken an hour of calling and messaging all his contacts to find out where he’s living now. When he said during the Cloud Burst that he’d left university, I knew we’d need to have a conversation about his living situation eventually. Still, I didn’t think it would be so soon.

“He’s in the garden,” the sullen-toned guy says, barely leaving me enough space to get through the open door. “Do you want a drink or anything?”

I take in the slug trails on the floor and the faint smell of damp and decline.

The guy points in the direction of the back door. I think he’s called Pete, but I haven’t seen him since he was fourteen, so I avoid saying his name. I slip out to the unkempt patio, a collection of weeds and missing concrete slabs, and sit on the plastic patio chair next to my brother.

The scent of a cherry vape surrounds him.

“I don’t know much about you anymore,” I say after a few minutes of silence. “How long have you been vaping?”

He lets out a burst of air. “A while.”

“And how long have you lived here?”

The cold air sneaks under my jacket, and I resist a shiver.

“About a fortnight.”

“And when did you start just giving short answers to questions?” I huff.

He turns to me, and I can see his glare from the light streaming from the kitchen window behind us. It gives him an eerie glow, highlighting his red face and squinting eyes. “About the same time you left the family to be with your arse of a boyfriend. It may have been after that, but you wouldn’t know, because you weren’t here.”

I flinch. Score one for Jem. He’s not lying, and while others may sugarcoat their words, I can rely on my brother to tell it how it is.

“No, I wasn’t here. But I should have been. I’ve realised that more and more over the last month,” I concede as the corners of my mouth droop.

He takes another drag of his vape, turning his head to release it before fixing me with his stare. “Too right you should have been. You should have visited and spent time with Grandma and Grandad. You broke their hearts. And you should have helped me with my homework or hung out with me in town on a Saturday afternoon like you used to, and you should have cared about us rather than just yourself and that prick you were dating.”

Memories I’d forced myself to forget flood my consciousness. Saturday afternoons at McDonald’s with a twelve-year-old Jem, laughing at stupid shit before heading to the skate park where he’d perform tricks with his friends. Amber usually joined us after she’d finished working at a café. Not many twelve-year-olds wanted to hang out with their big sisters, but Jem did.

“I’m sorry. I should have thought more about you and your life.”

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